Poems classified as: Prose Poem

An out of the box genre of poetry that is written in prose instead of verse. But there is a difference! Prose poems maintain poetic qualities of grand imagery and emotional consequences. Being a fusion of poetry and prose, this genre is an interesting narrative to read. Prose poems can take you deep in the theme with its story-telling. A great genre to explore!

Seer

Seer prose poem

Look, listen, learn. What’s going on? Writhing existence. Organic world mixing coalescing on all levels. Civilization, humanity, genetic confusion. The experiment turned on. Seer watching no interference but wondering. We but unwitting participants. Endgame Unknown. Writhing, coalescing genetic blob growing,

Butterfly

Butterfly prose poem

she pulled the heart from her pocket she looked at the hunk of red muscle she bit into it, it tasted sweet she felt the blood drip down her chin she realized she would always be a part of her

Maple Leaf

Maple Leaf prose poem

For everything, there is a season, it has been foretold. When I was young and green, securely clinging to the branches of my family Sugar Maple tree, I thought it was the best I would ever be. But here, now,

My Path

My Path prose poem

Life is full of choices, paths, right? No matter what path you’re on or what path you take next there are still choices you make that make your path easier or harder to reach you goal. If your plan is

Pursue

Pursue prose poem

Our society, I believe, has its own twisted definition of Darwin’s “Survival of the fittest”, For it clearly reminds us time and again, about how it wants to be impressed – “He owns a two-storey apartment, he drives to office

Revenge

Revenge prose poem

Hatred, let it flow, let those memories that shackled me fade, let that dagger, which gives me pain mystify, let those eyes that see through darkness appear, let that beast go berserk, As I smile at the damnation I caused,

Coffee

Coffee prose poem

Coffee// By: Fareed Ghanem **** Here I am, just a handful of water taken from the last raining season. Since the last Bedouin had poured me into his pot, which had been dyed by sand and smoke, and laid over

Gift

Gift prose poem

I would give you the glow of the fullest harvest moon on the darkest night but I am only a star! I would give you the sun from the warmest summer day but I am only darkness. I would give

Woman

Woman prose poem

That essence Those hands, that body that caresses who breastfeeds us that gives us life starting an eternal struggle who always leaves his teachings Their loves his consolations That essence that multiplies in the sister, in the aunt, in the